


A Pitch Black Night

by 123scout123



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Backstory, Dark Images & Themes, Existential Angst, God Complex, Solipsism, introduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/123scout123/pseuds/123scout123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you ever wondered why the Boogeyman is evil? Why he creates fear, or maybe even who he was before he was Pitch Black? Let's see. This is his backstory from The Dark Ages to when the movie takes place. More chapters to come :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I have no memory of anything pure. When my eyes opened, they were met with the most vivid shades of coal. I would never in a million years have thought that black could come in such lovely hues. Mine being the darkest.

The moment I woke up I felt what was assumed to be fear. And I despised it. But I could not help but feel the panic flood my veins and chill my marrow. Where was I? Why was I alone? Why were my surroundings so void of light?

Bringing my face inches off of the ground with a shake of my head, I found myself at the bottom of a cavernous abyss. One hand comfortably positioned under my temple, the other lying lightly on my side. To any bystander it would have seemed as if I had fallen into this crack in the earth and decided to rest my head. A slab of sedimentary rock my pillow, rubble and the dust from millennials past my blanket. This bed would be the only one I would know, or remember, for centuries to come. But was it a home?

My thoughts were interrupted by a light that came in from what I could only guess was the entrance to my hobbit hole. The rays from what I had assumed to be stars began dancing before my eyes. And as the gossamer particles twirled in their own strange, cosmic mambo, I felt my fear ebb away. The sensation of such sudden peace created a euphoria that I desperately wanted, the light gave comfort to my hidden frame yet seemed to chase away the shadows. I could not have said why the shadows ran from such a comforting embrace. I reached out to catch the light, let it swim between my fingers, and dance on my palm. Where it went I felt my skin tingle and numb slightly, but oddly enough it felt familiar, like a dream from long ago. I wanted to always be in this light, the luminescence of it giving me the strength to quell the hysteria that threatened to cloud my vision.

But as soon as the glow from above me came forth, it disappeared, replaced once more by creeping shadows and formidable shapes in the darkness. The calm that had washed over me seconds before was conquered by my utter need to bathe in the light from whatever cast it. Anything to bring peace of mind and a beacon to the depths of my mind.

I gripped either side of the hole and leveled myself with a hesitation that comes to any prey wary of predators in the night. And looking down I came to the realization that what clothes I had come down with had been stripped of me. Clinging to my pallid frame I hid my shame behind false modesty, knowing full well that no on would care if I was clothed or not. I brought my hand to my mouth, desperate not to give up hope, but as I bit down a queer thing happened. Iron and copper surged through my mouth, intoxicating my taste buds and drowning my senses out. I became mad in my thirst, licking my finger where I had bitten down on it, intent on tasting every molecule that swam in my veins. It gave me strength, with every drop that I consumed my senses sharpened and my fear fled me. It tasted dark, like obsidian, if that can be an accurate description, but with a chalky precipitate that seemed to linger on my tongue. If I did not know any better I would have said my blood tasted like black sand.

As the blood began to congeal I looked down at the wound I had absentmindedly conflicted on my own flesh. And wondered, Did I do that to myself? How? With a new found curiosity, I cautiously prodded my mouth with fingers unharmed. I found what most would expect to find when exploring a mouth; teeth, gums, a tongue. Though perhaps not every being has the slanted razor quality to their teeth that I do with mine. Each tooth, every molar and bicuspid, was filed to a peak, each lusting for blood and the soft cracking of soft flesh.

Out of anguish I cradled my head in my hands, and shut my eyes to the world. I wanted to know what I was and why I deserved to be in this accursed hole in the ground. I wanted to know what evil I had done, and how I could repent for it. But more than anything I wanted, no craved, that light again! In my mind I pictured a robe of charcoal silk, its material a replica of the ray. I imagined it, a high collar, flowing sleeves that trailed, and a train that would be my constant shadow. In the darkness of my dream the robe engulfed me and for a moment I felt as if I were truly encased in that glow. Just as I lost myself on the folds of my preconceived fantasy robe, I heard an acute scrapping. The shrill grating of stone over stone berated me, and caused me more psychical discomfort than pain. As I searched my meager fissure for the cause of such a ruckus, I was greeted by millions upon millions of microscopic dust mites gravitating towards me from the walls and floor. I scrambled backwards, my panic reaching a frenzied state. But the dust did not hurt me, I found. I turned my head away from the black mass of soot pivoting around me and barred my eyes to the sight. Then they landed on me. Seemingly gentle, I relaxed, the tension oozing out of me as I recognized the shape the dust was conforming to. They were creating my robe, these powders I would have mistaken for shadows in crevices were coming to me as if I had called them. As if I was their Master.

Who am I that these dun and archaic grains came to me beck and call?


	2. Chapter 2

I regained my composure after the initial shock, and turned to look down at my hands once more. The slight alleviation I had dissipated, and I fought to find the place on my finger where I had only moments earlier quenched my thirst on blood. The problem was that the ashen surface of the finger I had bitten was unmarked, unbloodied. Not even a scar to be seen in the dimness of my grotto. My breath faltered as my throat constricted in on itself. My God, the fear was overwhelming. With the fear mounting the sand around me seemed to grow as agitated as I felt, and the shadows took form; eyes became apparent, and hands crept out of corners. As ghastly tendrils slithered towards me from the gloom, I could feel my chest rising and falling with a feverish tempo, my hands even shook with the effort to fight the urge to flee. But where could I go? The only thing I could think of in my dismay was to close my eyes and give up, let whatever dwelled within the shadows overcome me, and hope for a painless end.

The ghostly limbs did not harm me though, they reached out hesitantly and caressed me. Ran their phantom hands through my hair and cupped my chin, I felt myself leaning into the embrace despite myself. When I opened my eyes I saw a man made of slate sand kneeling before me, our eyes level, and in his oval amber eyes I saw what I knew what had to me. We were one, no difference could be spotted. He was a perfect reflection, this man, and he gave me a tired smile when he saw my terror unfolding. I saw my face in his eyes as a pointed chin, cheekbones that ended in slants, and eyebrows so pale they seemed nonexistent. But my eyes were the most daunting. They were eyes the color of frozen gold, but flickered between the darkest shade of amber to the lightest hue of cream. I was so lost in this hypnotic trace that I had all but forgotten the swirling mass of dust that had created a replica of myself. The dark one looked at me with a scowl, and gripped my face with his hands, forcing me to look deep into his eyes. Those appalling eyes. When my breathing slowed and I did indeed look at him without turning to pull away, the man retracted his hands from either sides of my face. Satisfied I would not look away from him, the creature before me squatted, balancing on the balls of his feet. Our cave becoming the more cramped as I stretched long limbs out. After a while he prodded at my arm and when I raised my hand he snatched up my wrist and intertwined his fingers with mine. I was too astonished that this thing would touch me so to react. The man looked at our fingers and played with them, picking one up and letting it drop before moving on to the next one. When he noticed me watching him with what I can only guess a skeptical expression he smiled at me. Efficiently baring his teeth at the same time. My likeness must have seen the revulsion flood my features for the smile died upon his lips, short lived, as a flower's blossom during winter.

He did though release his grip on my hand, and as mine fell to my side, his hand pointed to the entrance of our little hole. I stretched my neck back, let my scalp graze against the firmness of the cave wall. Why was this clone of mine pointing towards the top of the hole with such an abundant fervor? Then it dawned on me; it was a way out. And I knew the light that had transfixed and freed me so must have come from up there. I was willing to face whatever dangers I needed to so that I could once again see those godly rays and feel them sedate me in serenity. I craved to immense myself in that divine and grandiose light, it was the air essential for all life to live. And as I looked upon the ambitious yearning face of my dark sibling, I knew I needed to live, to see this through.


	3. Chapter 3

We remained seated there, shrouded by darkness until the dust settled, creating a thick coating that had a fine sheen. We were both covered with the stuff, and given a varnish that could blind with its metallic gleam. To be quite honest we resembled twin guardsmen of the river Styx. Our lusterless jet robes matched our pallid flesh in a mixture that boded calamity and decline. To an ignorant soul who fell upon us in this, our hole in the ground, they would have screamed themselves hoarse of witchcraft and the devil. We did truly look the part, with our ungodly gold eyes.

I lounged in the muck with my sheen of fine cloudy dust and watched my companion, head in my hand and knees against my chest. He was intrigued by all the measly things in the cave and constantly pried rocks from the loose pebbly floor to inspect them, and never ceased to show me his new prizes. I would nod approval at every disgusting rock and broken twig he unburied, as if he had excavated a lost city, the poor thing craved my attention so badly, he was like a child. And then he would, without fail, clap his hands and bare his teeth in what I had judged to be his, our, version of a smile. This went on for hours, and nothing of circumstance was ever flashed before my eyes.

He found one rock though, that seemed to resist his prying, it stayed locked in the ground despite his best efforts. Frustrated by this mere pebble my dear sweet sibling let loose a flurry of onyx sand at it, loosening its hold on the surrounding rocks, surprising me. Letting out a triumphant gasp this creature beside me plucked the rock from the ground, and waved it over my head as if to show me some sort of accomplishment, his pride at the meaningless task was endearing but showering me with grime was less than appeasing. I was too distracted to give him the praise he so desperately hungered for however. My thoughts preoccupied by the bolt of sand that had seemed to erupt from his fingertips. How was he capable of that? Do I myself possess such demonic powers? It was as if the black sand I had seen so much of not only existed in my veins, but also could be summoned by my will and shaped to my desire. I had created my robe, and must have created my questionable friend here while pondering as to my own appearance. And it looked like my control over the grains of darkness did not stop there, they appeared to be called forth to protect or lend their power to their master.

Noticing how quiet it had grown I detached myself from the hurricane inside my head and glanced up from where I had unknowingly hid my face in my hands. My other had his back to me and was hunched over, I rolled my eyes in disbelief; was this thing so disgruntled about my absence of affection? But when I reached a hand out and rested it politely on his shoulder he arced over and extended his hands towards mine. At first I was panicked by the sudden motion, then put the thought aside deeming my shadow sibling an unstable and erratic copy of myself. But he turned around to me and I saw something I had not seen in his eyes before; life. Before he had always seemed like a Trojan horse, tastefully carved to my likeness, but hollow, devoid of all thought and emotion except innocence and curiosity. But now there was a deep fire burning behind those eyes, and I could hear the gears churning in his head of sand and hot air. How I pitied him the more, to be so interested in a typical slab of earth. Then I saw what was on the ore that fixated him so.

There was a fossil embedded so deeply in his rock that the tips of his fingers could not reach the bottom of the grooves. He offered it to me with a solemn face that promised retribution if any harm would befall his precious.

It was alive in a past life, this being so much older than I, and yet so young compared to the stars. I don't know how but I knew the word to describe this masterpiece of time, it was a fossil, a relic of an age long gone. The rock had imprinted the skull cavity of some magnificent beast, the pit for the eyes shrunken and elongated, its brain cavity modest, but its teeth were what drew the eye. They were like mine, larger and more formidable granted but as I stroked the large canines I felt empathy for this monster and how it must have hated the fear it cause. If it could have felt remorse, I wanted to think that this horrid creature, so like myself, could have felt remorse as well.

It must have been wise, I thought, but not wise enough to discover immortality. I puzzled to what advice it might have given me, as I woke in this cave, very much a fossil myself. As my imagination ran wild with the infinite possibilities that this creature could have done, looked like, and told me if it could, my clone grew impatient.

He stamped his foot and gestured for his treasure back, and I snarled at him startling us both. He cowered before me, and I tossed him the rock back, frustrated with him and at my sudden hostility. I turned my head so that he would not see the anxiety creeping across my face, I did not know I had that anger in me. I did not really know myself at all. My vision blurred as hysteria threatened to break the levees, but knowing the danger I could put myself in if I showed weakness I strengthened my resolve and focused attention back to the creature kneeling before me.

The gleam in his eyes promised life but I could not help but feel apprehension, we both seemed more dead than alive. I woke up in the midst of rubble and ruin, surrounded by the slithering of shadows on a carpet of earth's mantle. We were the vermin of the world, dark brutes that seemed to be condemned to hell, beings out of myth and late night fear. I might as well have been made of stone I felt so cold and unchangeable. A yowl from my friend drew my attention from out of the depths of my mind, where I seem to retreat to frequently.

He had another rock! This one was jagged and rough with minerals racing through it, every shade of grey. It was indeed an unsightly stone, it was the same as millions of others, and there was nothing special about this one. Nor would there ever be. But my companion was not so much pleased about the stone itself, than what he found dwelling underneath it. Stark against the brown muck of the den's floor there was a white maggot, plump and utterly unpleasant on the eye. If I was a creature of hell this thing squirming feebly in the palm of my friend's hand was from another world. Grotesque in every sense, with its disproportioned body and large brown mouth that sucked at the air greedily, I loathed it on sight. But it was the only other living thing so I scooted closer to investigate how depraved this being was. I did not get the chance to get a closer look, for the maggot had latched itself onto my other's finger while he had probed it. I felt the tiny teeth fasten on my own finger and felt the provoking sensation of warm blood course down the length of my digit. I could not tear my gaze away from the dark man beside me as his facial features were lost in a mask of pure rage, everything was twisted and nightmarish as he let loose a cry. It had not hurt that much, he was surely overreacting. But that did not stop him from unleashing another howl that shook the walls and sparked miniature avalanches of rubble and debris. Then he killed it.

He took it between two fingers and squeezed the life out of it, his face contorting from confusion to anger than to a delirious sneer. My mouth fell open as the small maggot cried soundless cries, it was horrible, it was magnificently deranged. He remained with this lifeless larva in his hand but his face softened, and restored itself to his earlier childish demeanor. He seemed to be waking from a deep sleep, his movements were sluggish and his eyes were glazed, but when he looked down the dead little creature his eyes became watery. His shoulders hunched unnaturally, his face hidden to me as he used his hand to dig a small grave to bury the maggot in.

I wanted to help him; he looked like he was hurting. I do not think he knew what he was doing but he had killed it and now he had to take care of it himself. It was all very disturbing. But as soon as he had begun crying over the lifeless broken carcass he stopped, and straightened up. And with the same eerie light flowing from his eyes he looked to me, and held out his hand. I held my hand out and he spun his fingers over my exposed palm, and much to my astonishment the familiar black soil came forth from each of his fingertips and bounded across my hand. I tried to pull my hand back, this was too much for me, but he gripped my wrist tighter and held me in place.

Then all at once the cloud of black dirt began to take shape; first it was I, tall and slim with slicked back jet-black hair and a robe equally dark, then it was the both of us sitting and looking at each other, then it was a black maggot. The black maggot was pudgier than the one that had lived, and squirmed less, even friendly.

I pulled harder to free myself, but this only caused him to hold on to my wrist tighter, but in my desperation I turned to violence. I raked the skin on his arm with the nails on my other hand, dug my nails deep into his flesh, breaking it and collecting blood under my nails. The pain travelled through my body and I felt phantom fingers sliding their nails through my skin. What torture! Black beads of blood began pooling on my arm exactly where I had scratched him. No, no, no! This could not be happening, I knew my twin and I shared an odd connection, but this was preposterous. But still he clung to me, his face an impeccable echo of my own; awe, dread, and alarm. I felt the tears fly forward and streak down my face, running along the curve of my cheekbones, tasting the tainted skin. I felt foul, corrupt, vile and inhuman. My other let go of my hand and I crept away, tucked myself into a ball and wept. I could feel my heart palpitating, and my blood pumping, my head throbbed and my eyes could not stop twitching, this cave was too small. I felt the walls push in on me and I closed my arms over my head and bawled louder. Why? Why? Why was this happening!

The walls, oh how they inched closer, always the emblem of my embedding demise. I was paralyzed, frozen in fetal position, but felt myself being lifted off of the ground. I could not take my head put of my hands though, the faces in the wall terrorized me so. I felt myself rising even higher and a faint flicker of hope within my dead heart hoped for the light again. And soon I felt a new texture under me as I was not unkindly laid to rest on the ground. It felt prickly, and itched my skin where it went, but seemed almost like a fluid, it moved so easily with the wind. Wind! It tasted fresh, and brought a clean feeling to my weary bones, almost as soothing as the light that eluded me so. The damp, stale air of my venomous home had seemed toxic, clouded by the weight of a world and the vulgar things that resided in the depths, myself included.

But this was different, there were no walls, nothing that could crush me. I felt safe, free even. This was where I wanted to be, but knew I did not belong; darkness does not deserve to see the light.


	4. Chapter 4

As I slept on, faces violated my subconscious.

They sneered at me, their faces grisly and unkempt. Mouthes opened to expose elongated, flat molars, and yellow, oozing gums. In my hellish dreams these faces formed in the walls of whatever enclosure had caught me, and they crept toward me on bony, wan fingers, with nails sharp and cuticles neglected. Their eyes were hollow; sunken into the bloodless skin, eyelids fell to the sides of empty pits, useless pieces of flesh. Dying moans escaped from their maws, but no words, nothing comforting or discouraging. These cadaverous figures haunted my every dream, and I twitched and cried mutely, pleading for some sort of comfort.

I waited for relief but nothing would come to my aid, I was stuck in this dark labyrinth of my mind. There was no light here.

 


	5. Chapter 5

What brought me back from the depths of my slumber was a scent on the wind, it did not just resuscitate me, but aroused every cell within me. It wafted into my mouth through my open lips, caked my tongue and clouded my mind with vibrant hues. An eerie fog flooded my subconscious, asphyxiating me.

Colors flew before my closed eyes and as I inhaled my stomach growled and the throbbing in my skull intensified ten fold. This euphoria was more vivid and brilliant than the pleasure I got from sampling my own blood, it was madness and I should have been ashamed.

It was alluring, the perfume of fear, and it made my mouth water. As the faces in my mind drew back, I felt my own hunger and greed surge, and starvation awoke me. I was ashamed of how strong my reaction was to a simple odor on the wind, it was atrociously devious. It was paralyzing and I loved it, I could lose myself in the flavor of fear, but when I felt it myself I could hear the walls calling my name, and reaching for me. I was a hypocritical monster; I reveled in the fear of others, but was repulsed by my own.

I opened the eyes that had been clenched so tightly and saw nothing. There was blackness everywhere, wafting around me, stroking my skin tentatively. But when I did adjust to the light I saw a slight beam, it was a flicker of sunlight through the general darkness, and I could feel the phantom ray on my bare skin again.

I looked up and for my twin, he had to have been the one that helped me from that hell hole. But I could not find him, I searched in the shadows for the familiar tawny orbs, and felt more abandoned when I could not find those demonic eyes. I found myself feeling indebted to my twin. He was the embodiment of malevolence to be sure, and he was the personified form of a side of my decrepit soul that I feared. But I felt a kinship with the wicked creature, he was the first 'person' that this face had seen, he was my partner in a way, he was my shadow.

I did not see anything resembling my companion in the gloom, the only thing I could see was the remanent ray of light emerging from the shadows to my right. I knew with a deep instinct that the faint flicker of light was the one from before, and I had to use all of what willpower I possessed to fight the urge to run after the light. I had to find my shadow first, I wanted him to experience the same happiness as I had. I grinned as I thought about showing him his first affair with happiness. I wanted to show this immoral brute something outside the range of fear and corruption. I wanted him to witness beauty.

But I still could not find him, no matter how I twisted my head and squinted into the gloom. I debated calling for him, but realized I had not spoken out loud, for all I knew I had lost what vocal skills I had in the depths of earth's crust. Then I reflected on what to call him; I did not know my own name, if I even had one. Do I call him brother? Do I call him beast?

I heard a noise like an animal retreating into its den, the scrapping of claws and talon against stone, and I remembered the small chasmic hole to my left. I turned towards it, with an agonizing sense of dread forming in my gullet, and crept to the edge of the hole.

Peering over the edge I saw nothing but darkness, but as I leaned further over the abyss I heard a weak hissing noise. I hissed back softly, still wary of what lurked in the cavern and two identical golden orbs looked up me.

He had been crying, I saw. Even from such a great height I could hear him sniffling and see him wiping his eyes on mud soaked sleeves. I wondered why he was so upset, but did not give it much thought, he was volatile and prone to excessive mood swings. But never the less I beckoned him to me with a wave of my hand. His mood immediately lightened and his face was bright again. He stood up unsteadily and began climbing the walls of the cave, his hands metamorphosing into bony, grey claws. It was unsettling to watch this specter traverse the sheer cave wave, always inching towards me with a sneer playing on his features. I imagined this was what hell must look like to those near death; dark and dingy with no bottom in sight, strange creatures made from shadows always beside and above you. If I could die I would have already lived with a creature from Hades, so I would not be afraid.

As he neared me I reached my hand toward him and gestured for him to take it, but he was hesitant; not sure how to react to my tenderness.

I cannot say as to what exactly I felt for the brute, he was all I wished to never be; violent and cruel and unpredictable. But he was also full of wonder, and surprisingly I sensed some empathy deep from within him, it was as if he had the capability to care but did not know how to. He was like a child, and like children he needed to be taken care of and taught the difference between right and wrong. And although I wished with all my might that the responsibility of watching this thing below me would fall on someone else's shoulders, I was resigned with this new chore. I did feel a connection between us, he was made from the sand that I ruled over, so in a ways he was my creation and mine alone. He would make me a better man, if I could teach him to be kind and gentle then there was hope for me. I wanted to believe that I was a truly benevolent being, but I could feel the sand coursing through my veins, slowly blackening everything inside me. It must be the same for him, though I did not yet know if he could bleed, and despite myself something from the far recesses of my mind wanted to find out.

He got over his hesitance in seconds, his mood began to shift from apprehension to joy, and the life went back to his eyes. He smiled up at me and latched onto my hand, relinquishing his grip on the wall. He was heavier than what I would have expected and I grunted savagely as I fought to remain balanced on the edge of the pit. After a brief sortie with gravity I pulled him over the edge and collapsed panting on the grass, I closed my eyes wishing to catch my breath. But it hitched in my throat as I felt my sibling lay his head on my shoulder. I sat upright abruptly, and he fell to the floor with an audible hollow noise, when he regained his composure and had plucked the stray bits of shrubbery from his hair, he gave me a scowl. I put my hands up in front of me as a way of apologizing, he had shocked me. I was not quite used to his presence and he was seemingly noiseless on his feet.

He tilted his head and smiled at me, it was oddly comforting to have him by my side again, I felt less afraid and more invincible. We stood up in unison, and he shrunk behind me, holding onto my robe, a child hiding behind its mother's skirts. I leaned over him and ran my fingers through his hair, urging him to be brave. He finally let go of me and stood up to his full height, and we were eye to eye again.

We stayed there, near the hole looking into the darkness together, the wind gently catching our robes and twisting them behind us, transforming the both of us into dark sentinels; waiting and watching the shadows.

I wanted to linger by the hole's entrance, I at least knew what was down there, but I did not know what dangers were hidden in this new world. I had to steel myself against my fears before I could venture out into this strange universe. But I still craved to find the source of the fear on the wind, the fear I tasted was delicious, and I needed more of it, I was hungry for it.

I needed to eat. Whatever was the cause of the terror I needed to find it, but I did not know what I would do when I found the source. I was afraid of what I would do, I wanted to think I could help it, but I was terrified I might let hunger take over.

Starvation and greed could push me over the edge, and I might just end up causing more fear than I could eat.


	6. Chapter 6

As hunger consumed me, my thoughts roamed and meandered. I asked myself if I should follow the light or heed my stomach's warnings and pursue the terror on the wind.

My companion pulled at me again, tugging insistently at the sleeve of my robe, and with an awful grimace plastered across his face his gut grumbled, seemingly reading my mind. I chuckled, a weak attempt at showing this dark figure solidarity, but it came out as a gasp of dusty and dark air. I was annoyed with myself at that, my own incapability to express mirth and joy, and as my mood changed as his tend to, I scowled down at him, successfully yanking my robed forearm away from his bony grasp.

But I lifted my nose to the air and inhaled the scent of panic anyway, with my mind shaded by a dark fog I fought the impulse to bare my teeth at the scent of prey. We were going to be dining out this night, no more pricking our fingers to satisfy our urges, I was intent on getting some nourishment. Oh how naive I was; to think that my satisfaction would come freely and without any backlash.

We stood together, perfect manifestations of dread and gluttony, and I realized our only purpose in life in that moment; to devour and dwell in the fear that others emit. The thought chilled my marrow yet excited me none the less.

A dissonant voice in the crevice of my psyche warned me that feeling such utter comfort at this revelation was to be abhorred; that I should not be pleased to be a creature that hides in darkness and feeds off of the foul thoughts of others. But another voice in my mind spoke up, louder than the first one, and yelled out to me, that horror was just too tasty to pass up, and that alone I existed in the world, that nothing else mattered but my well being.

The foremost influential voice lectured me on the importance of my own body and mind, and informed me that the world was empty and mechanical; that I was the only person, the only deity, nay god, that mattered in this shattered and frightful universe.

And so with this new knowledge I sneered at the endless stupidity of this world, and began to hunt down the source of the delicious smell. Driven by my own self worth, I ignored logic and common sense to fulfill my own ghastly desires.

We stepped away from the pit at the same time, moving from the darkness at the same time, the both of us twin goblins, moving in time, our steps unfaltering. As we walked the grass underneath our feet dried and shriveled up, yellowing and decaying in our presence. And looking over my shoulder to the trail of death that we had created I again forgot logic in my deluded sense of power and entitlement. I choose to ignore the foreshadowing, the warning of the extent and limit of my powers.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to comment please! And check out my other story as well please! Any and all criticism is wanted!


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